ep13. Where the Blood Rains (2)
"I only heard this from my team leader, but Apophis refused to do the search."
"They refused the search?"
I asked back in surprise.
Apophis. The mercenary corporation founded by retired Bureau operatives.
"Weren't they supposed to be leading the operation to rescue Team Leader Cha?"
Just as I said, this rescue operation had been planned around Apophis as its core. The reason, of course, was the Bureau's chronic manpower shortage.
During this Intensive Suppression Week, nearly every field officer and agent had been deployed to special zones. Even Squad 6, the reserve unit held back for emergencies, had been committed to containing the Ant Hill, leaving them unable to move for the time being. And they couldn't exactly scrape together Team 1—barely crawling out of the Island—and throw them right back in.
In the end, the field division and command had turned to Apophis for help. After all manner of negotiations, the plan had been set: Apophis and Bureau agents would cooperate to launch a rescue operation.
I'd heard all this and felt relieved just last evening. So why was the situation falling apart again?
"The rescue team entered the Island in the early hours this morning, but all their communications equipment went dead."
"The equipment?"
"Yes. So I guess the Apophis people pulled out, saying they couldn't run an operation this dangerous without comms..."
Unbelievable.
"Right now it's just our own people holding position at the entrance."
"Then what happens now?"
"I don't know either. To restart the search, they'd have to fix the communication failure first, and apparently they haven't even identified the cause yet..."
In other words, there was no telling when the search would resume.
What happens to Cha Si-eon, then? Do they just give up on him?
Under the heavy weight pressing down on my skull, I shook my head inwardly. No, it's too early to jump to conclusions. Knowing Team Leader Cha Si-eon, wouldn't he manage a self-rescue, just like he so often mentioned? Yes—that was the man who'd fling a survival rulebook at everyone and then shout, 'Good luck with your self-rescue, citizens!' About time he showed some leadership and practiced what he preached. And so...
No. That's all nonsense.
The place Cha Si-eon is in isn't just anywhere—it's the Island Where Blood Rains. A space where Bureau elites entered at platoon strength and came out with half of them casualties. By now the Reorganization period would have ended and the zone would be active again.
And an even more serious problem was supply. Did Cha Si-eon have enough water and food? As far as I knew, he had nothing beyond a personal canteen. Maybe some snacks he'd secretly stashed in his pockets, sure. But even then, three days' worth of rations would be laughably insufficient. How long could anyone hold out without eating or drinking at all?
"If Gwak Jae-gyeom finds out, he's going to lose it again."
"Yeah, he definitely would..."
"So please keep an eye on him. If he pulls another stunt here, things could get seriously bad."
Yu-ju pleaded with me, her face tight with anxiety.
"The disciplinary hearing is one thing, but the people on Response Team 4 are furious too... They were saying if Gwak Jae-gyeom steps out of line again, it'll be really dangerous."
That was less Yu-ju's opinion than her team leader's, I figured. I agreed with part of it. The Bureau right now had neither the grace nor the luxury to write off Gwak Jae-gyeom's violence as youthful impulsiveness.
Gwak Jae-gyeom had lost his team leader, but Response Team 4 had watched their teammates die right in front of them. This was never a situation where either side could afford to lash out carelessly. But fists had already been thrown, and the atmosphere between the teams had soured to the absolute worst it could be. On top of that, the team leader who might have smoothed things over—or protected Jae-gyeom—was missing.
So if this escalated any further, things would genuinely become unmanageable.
It was perfectly sound reasoning, but Yu-ju's worry struck me as excessive, so I said soothingly, "Jae-gyeom won't go off the rails that badly. He's a pretty sharp kid, honestly..."
Truthfully, I'd been quite surprised that the sharp kid had thrown a punch at anyone in the first place. Considering it happened right after he came out of the Island, though, I could understand to a degree. His tension and adrenaline would have been piled up to the crown of his head. But surely he'd cooled off by now. I didn't think Gwak Jae-gyeom was reckless or emotional enough for that.
"No, Agent... that kid will absolutely not sit still."
But Yu-ju shook her head vigorously, pushing back against me.
"Back then, it was Team Leader Cha Si-eon who rescued Gwak Jae-gyeom and brought him to the Page facility."
"..."
I was considerably taken aback by her explanation. Then it came back to me, belatedly—that Gwak Jae-gyeom was also a minor survivor who'd lost his family in a Special Zone, a Page facility alumnus. But the one who'd rescued him had been Cha Si-eon, of all people? That, I was hearing for the first time.
And once I heard it, Yu-ju's concern suddenly hit home.
Gwak Jae-gyeom was a kid with deep attachments. When his Page classmate Ha Yu-ju got hurt, he'd been as irritable as if the injury were his own. So what about Cha Si-eon? What if Cha Si-eon wasn't just some overbearing boss to him, but the savior who'd saved his life when he was young? What if that person was now in danger trying to be rescued—once again saving him, in a sense—and on top of that, the rescue operation itself had been suspended...
"...Yeah, there's no way he'd sit still."
Oops.
Only now did I understand Ha Yu-ju's worry.
"All right. I'll stay close to Jae-gyeom and keep watch."
At my words, Yu-ju seemed choked up, able only to nod again and again. Then she added in a somewhat subdued voice, "You should be careful too, Agent."
"Me?"
"Yes. Of course no one would do that to you... but just in case, be careful not to bump into anyone."
Yu-ju glanced around as if wary, sweeping her gaze across the empty waiting room.
"Everyone's nerves are raw. At times like this, a big fight could break out for no reason at all."
A big fight at the Bureau—that was something I'd never even imagined. But seeing the thin-ice atmosphere around the field division, I could understand her caution.
Team 1 had failed on every objective. The fragment of the Big Cat secured during the twelfth engagement had been lost in the thirteenth. Their original mission—initializing the special zone—had been suspended in a half-finished state, and the Island Where Blood Rains had successfully completed its Awakening. The only accomplishments worth naming were driving back the mercenary entities, the Gardener and the Echo. And that hadn't even been Team 1's main mission, besides being a pitifully thin result compared to our own losses.
Worst of all, this miserable failure had occurred amid the expectation that it might end the war against the special zones altogether. The gulf between hope and despair was shockingly deep. Over this bone-deep failure, the Bureau's mood had sunk lower than ever, simmering silently like a bomb that could go off at any moment.
"Yes, I'll be careful. It does seem like things will be tense for a while."
As I added this with a heavy heart, Yu-ju stared at me quietly. Then she spoke, her voice dropping even lower.
"Not just for a while."
"Sorry?"
"Not just for a while—this is the Bureau's real atmosphere, Agent."
This time my gaze froze on Ha Yu-ju. She held my eyes for a moment, then murmured with a glum face, "It was actually after you arrived that things got suspiciously pleasant around here. For a while there."
Carrying the snacks Yu-ju had given me, I left the lounge and crossed the empty corridor at a brisk pace. Nobody would do anything that reckless, surely—but if anyone delivered the news of the suspended search to Jae-gyeom, I'd have to be there to talk them down.
Walking with anxious, hurried steps out of sheer what-if, I sighed, wondering what I was even doing. I hated this unsettled air. I hated the aura of death that clung to me no matter how many times I shook it off. And in the middle of it all, I hated my own position—neither insider nor outsider, hovering awkwardly at the edges.
So I walked the empty corridor at my usual pace and let myself think the unthinkable. Was Cha Si-eon actually alive? Baek Sa-ra had said he absolutely would be. She'd declared it outright, without a hint of a joke or exaggeration—that he'd be stubbornly attempting a self-rescue this very moment. But then again, who knew. Even if he were still alive in these conditions, how much longer could he hold out? Wasn't it about time to fold away the empty hope and face reality?
It struck me as strange, how calmly I was weighing this. So I asked myself: if Cha Si-eon dies, what happens to me?
Sorry to say, I don't think it would hit me very hard. I don't know him well enough to mourn his death. Three months of working face to face—that was all. Even if something truly terrible happened to him, I doubted I'd suffer much over it. If anything, the changes to my own circumstances—who'd be assigned to me next?—would concern me more.
Unfortunately, and yet thankfully, Cha Si-eon had never been particularly important to me. Which granted me the privilege of surveying this situation without fear or desperation—but damn it all. Thinking of someone I know dying still leaves a bad taste. Even if he does die, I hope it doesn't happen this way. If not for Cha Si-eon's own sake, then at least for the sake of the people around him.
So I hoped he'd come back alive if he could...
At that moment, the brilliantly white corridor suddenly went dark.
"...!"
But I had no time to be flustered by the abrupt change in lighting. My eyes met those of a man sitting on the floor.
...It was Team Leader Cha Si-eon.
"Uh...?"
Just as I stood there stunned at finding him, Cha Si-eon planted a hand on the floor and lunged at me. The sheer menace of it—like a tiger pouncing—sent me stumbling backward as I shouted in a rush, "Team Leader Cha—!"
But, damn it. Before I could finish the word, Cha Si-eon had seized me by the collar. Then my body floated up, and the world flipped upside down.
CRASH—!
At the end of a heady moment of weightlessness, an impact slammed into my back. In the same instant, realizing I'd been sent flying without mercy, I let out a soundless scream.
You son of a—!